


The Pursuit of Happiness

by nimbus2003



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, American Politics, BAMF Hermione Granger, Congresswoman Hermione Granger, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lots of Political Shenanigans, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Powerful Tom Riddle, Senator Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbus2003/pseuds/nimbus2003
Summary: Senator Riddle (Republican, NY) has a problem. People think that he’s stern, unyielding, and incapable of compromise. Congresswoman Granger (Democrat, CA) is struggling to gain the respect of the party establishment, which views her as a progressive upstart. Fortunately for the two of them, there’s a simple solution: date.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 109
Kudos: 222





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello, hello! Here is my American Politics AU. I was hoping to start uploading this awhile ago, but life got in the way. Apologies to my absolutely lovely readers. Anyways, we're here now, and I'm super excited about it.
> 
> I'm planning to update about once a week, usually on Sundays. It may be more than that, but I'm going to try and make sure it isn't less. The first chapter is shorter than the rest, because it's a prologue. 
> 
> If any of the political lingo is confusing, there's a guide to it on my tumblr (nimbus200x). Mostly, though, I'm going to attempt to keep it simple enough that it can be understood contextually. 
> 
> I know politics are incredibly charged at the moment. This fic doesn't exist in the same world as Trump vs. Biden, etc. I want it to be a bit more lighthearted, so I'm going to set it in a world where Democrats and Republicans got on a little better, but I do intend to be realisitic about political issues and the discussions cross-party couples would have. 
> 
> Without further ado, let's get started!

**PROLOGUE: MIDTERM ELECTION NIGHT**

Tom reached for the remote, flipping through a few channels before eventually settling on CNN. Behind him, Lucius laughed. “Liberal media, Tom? I didn’t know you were a fan of Anderson Cooper.” 

Unamused, Tom turned up the volume. “It’s important to know what the enemy is saying.” Before he could continue, a new headline flashed across the screen. Tom frowned, displeased. “Early returns aren’t in for North Carolina.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Abraxas said, daring to rest a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Avery is going to be reelected. He had to swing center to win, but his seat is safe.” 

Not bothering to acknowledge Abraxas, Tom snapped his fingers. “You. Crabbe. Get Bellatrix on the line. Tell her to send me the exit polling.” Crabbe nodded, running to grab a phone. Tom turned back to the television. “North Carolina aside, I think the Senate is safe.” 

“I talked to Narcissa. She agrees,” Lestrange confirmed. 

Tom smiled, a rare sign of approval. “Good. When Crabbe gets back, I’ll have him call the speechwriter and print the victory statement.” As another race was declared, the room broke out into cheers. 

“Well,” Lucius said. “Nice to have another congressman in the family.” 

Lestrange shook his head, shaking Lucius’ hand. “I didn’t think Draco had it in him.”

“He’s a Malfoy in Virginia,” Abraxas scoffed. “Of course he had it in him.” 

Tom stood, moving to pace the length of the room. After a second, he paused, leaning against an ornate bookshelf. “Things are changing, boys. Virginia is a few elections away from being a Democratic state.”

“Speaking of,” Nott said, voice silky. “The House is in danger. Two seats in Florida just flipped.” 

“The third?” Tom confirmed. 

Nott checked his phone. “That and the eighteenth.”

“Not my problem,” Tom said. “Let the bastards flounder. They deserve it, after botching the Obamacare repeal.” The room quieted, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t often that Senators openly condemned their colleagues in the House. 

Tom adjusted his suit, straightening the sleeves. “Is there anything else worth knowing about?” 

In the background, an aide coughed. All eyes turned to her, incredulous. She flushed, holding up her phone. “I think you should see this, Senator Riddle.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Give me your phone,” Tom demanded. 

The aide handed it over, shaking. “Some girl flipped a seat in California, out in the Central Valley. It’s deep red, but she won by a landslide.” When Tom didn’t say anything, she continued. “The video of her acceptance speech is going viral.” 

“Well,” Tom said. “That certainly _is_ worth knowing about.” He turned to Nott. “Who is she?”

“Hermione Granger,” Nott said, drawing out the syllables. “Daughter of farmers, salt of the Earth.” He sighed, sounding disgusted. “She’s clean, by the way. There’s no bones in her closet, let alone a full skeleton.” 

Tom looked calm, but his colleagues started to inch away, fearing an explosion.“Anything else?” 

Nott hesitated. “She’s close friends with Harry Potter. They met at school.” 

Tom threw the phone. It hit the wall, shattering on impact. “No one thought to mention this?” He asked, voice dangerously calm. 

Abraxas took a step forward. “She wasn’t supposed to win, Tom.”

“I want you to run deep background,” Tom snarled. When no one moved, he repeated himself. “Was that not clear? Deep background. Now.” 

*

Hermione was running late. Massively, disastrously late. She checked her watch, cursing at the time. “Ron,” she hissed, leaning into the front seat. “I need you to drive _faster_.” 

The ginger frowned, looking at the odometer. “I’m already doing 60, Hermione. We’ll be there in two minutes. Just sit tight.” 

Hermione sighed, leaning back. “I don’t have service. Results are out, and I don’t have service.” She massaged her temples, attempting to ward off a burgeoning headache. “God, what a mess. I can’t even confirm that I lost.” 

“Hey!” Ron intoned. “No negative thinking, alright? There’s always a chance.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The final polls had us down by more than five percent.”

“Hermione--” Ron said.

She cut him off. “Don’t worry, Ron. I’m not upset that I ran, or anything like that. I think we pushed the district in the right direction.” She stopped abruptly, choking down emotion.

“Hermione,” Ron repeated, this time with more urgency in his voice. “Reporters are running to our event.” 

Stunned, Hermione looked out the window. Ron was right. Cameramen were running to their campaign event, preparing to film her entrance. “Maybe it’s closer than I thought,” she whispered. “They wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a story.” 

“Let’s see,” Ron replied, parking the car. 

The second she stepped out into the warm California air, Hermione was inundated by a stream of questions. “Ms. Granger!” A reported called. “How do you feel about being the youngest woman ever elected to Congress?”

She blinked. “What?”

Harry was there, then, pushing his way through the crowd. His glasses were slightly askew, and his tie was hanging over his shoulder. “We won!” He screamed, pulling her into a fierce hug.

Hermione’s legs gave out. Harry held her up, holding her until she was able to stand. 

“We won,” Hermione repeated, stunned.

Harry nodded, slapping Ron on the back. Beaming, Hermione pulled away from the circle. “My apologies,” she said, turning to the reporters. “I hadn’t seen the results; there was no cell service on the way here.” Her grin faded, replaced by a stoic smile. “I’ll take questions now.” 

*

The next day, the headlines weren’t about Tom Riddle’s eloquent, tasteful victory speech. They were about Hermione Granger, overnight icon and champion of the progressive left. 

Tom burned his morning paper. 

Hermione flew to Washington.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here we are, a whole day early! It's a November miracle. 
> 
> In all seriousness, I'm so excited to continue with this fic. I cannot thank you enough for the outpouring of love and support on the prologue. I'm not going to say I teared up reading the comments, but also I definitely teared up reading the comments and seeing such a positive response. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's the next chapter of political escapism. 
> 
> PS. Important note: When Tom gave a victory speech in the first chapter, it was not for his own campaign. It was on behalf of the Republican Party. He'll be up for election during the fic, just like Hermione. Also, as of this chapter, Hermione has been in Congress for a year. THERE IS A TIME SKIP. 
> 
> xoxoxo

**_CHAPTER ONE_ **

ONE YEAR, ONE MONTH SINCE THE ELECTION

Tom smiled, setting down his notes. In response, cameras flashed. It wasn’t hard to see why. Dressed in casual slacks and a collared shirt, he looked the part of a modern politician. His watch was expensive, but not expensive enough to call his personal finances into election. His hair was combed, but not slicked back.

After a few seconds of photographs, he waved the reporters off. “Alright, alright. Any questions before I go?” 

“Do you have news on Iran?” A young journalist asked, looking hopeful. 

Tom tutted. “You know I can’t answer that, Taylor. Now, who else?” A flurry of hands went up. Tom pointed at a man in a blue shirt. “Will, do you have something?” 

“What do you think of Congresswoman Granger’s critique of your voting history?” The reporter asked. “She was quoted in the TImes saying that you’re a conservative, not a moderate.” 

“Well,” Tom said, letting snide laughter creep into his voice. “I think Congresswoman Granger has a lot to learn. If she thinks I’m a conservative, she won’t like what’s waiting for her in the House.” 

Will broke into a grin, jotting down the quote. “You’re saying she’s out of line?” 

Tom shook his head. “I’m saying that she’s young and inexperienced. Give her a few years, and I’m sure she’ll be a wonderful addition to Congress.”

*

“That bastard _,_ ” Hermione hissed, slamming the door to her office. “How _dare_ he?”

Unfazed by her dramatic entrance, Ron turned to face Hermione. “Draco?” He guessed, passing her a cup of coffee. She accepted it, grateful. 

“It wasn’t Draco.” Hermione paused, taking a sip of coffee, then another. When she could delay no longer, she sighed. “It was Riddle.” 

Ron frowned, glancing at Hermione’s calendar. “He’s not on your schedule. Why did you meet with him?” 

“I didn’t,” Hermione said with finality, as if that explained the situation. Sensing Ron’s confusion, she elaborated. “He had a press conference today. One of the reporters asked him about me."

Ron grinned. “Let me guess. He’s not a fan.”

“That’s the thing!” Hermione exclaimed, nearly spilling her coffee. “He wouldn’t admit to disliking me.” 

Thoroughly confused, Ron held up a hand. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me. Without seeing the video, I don’t understand why you’re upset.” 

“He told the reporter that I’m too inexperienced to have an opinion,” she said. “It’s not just that, either. He implied that I was too young to be a congresswoman.” Pacing again, Hermione banged her fist against the wall. “I shouldn’t have given the Times such a dramatic quote.” 

“Not your fault,” Ron countered. “No matter what you said, it was wrong for Riddle to call you stupid."

“Inexperienced,” Hermione corrected. 

Ron rolled his eyes, not interested in the distinction. “Stupid. Inexperienced. Whatever. He was being a jerk, and you know it.” 

“You’re right,” Hermione said, righteous fury slowly returning. “It was rude.” 

ONE WEEK LATER

Tom rounded the corner, not bothering to watch where he was going. “Who moved the meeting?” He demanded, voice thick with frustration. “I don’t recall giving Lucius permission to...’” He stopped suddenly, colliding with a brunette woman. 

His briefcase fell, breaking open. Dozens of classified documents spilled onto the floor. Livid, Tom bent to gather his things. 

The stranger knelt too, helping him collect the papers. 

“Thank you,” Tom said, forcing himself to be polite. At the sound of his voice, the mysterious woman tensed, then straightened. As she did, her hair fell away from her face. A second too late, Tom realized that he’d crashed into Hermione Granger. 

She was wearing leggings. His eye twitched, irritated by her flagrant disregard for the congressional dress code. 

Tom's gaze traveled up. She was holding a coffee mug. Some had spilled during the collision; it stained the edge of her coat. Squinting, he tried to read the inscription on the cup. Before he could, though, she turned it upside down. 

The papers. She was pouring coffee on his papers. “What are you doing?” Tom yelled, stepping towards her. 

“My mistake,” she said, a cold smile on her face. “Maybe if I had more experience drinking coffee, I would’ve been able to hold the cup.” 

Tom swore internally. He’d clearly made an enemy during the press conference. Still, he couldn’t let her win. 

“You know,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm. “You’re proving my point. Pouring coffee on my work is highly immature.” 

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m ruining your morning. That’s a win in my book.” Before Tom could retort, she walked away, not bothering to look back. For the first time in years, Tom was rendered speechless. 

Hermione was right, too. She ruined his morning. And his afternoon. And his evening, if he was being honest. The woman was fierce. Incredibly so. He was a respected, incumbent senator. She was a progressive upstart from rural California. Despite the power differential, she seemed completely unafraid of him. 

Tom reached for his phone, dialing a familiar number. He stood in his kitchen, reveling in the quiet of an empty house. 

“Tom?” Nott asked, picking up the phone. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Is everything alright?” 

“Of course,” Tom reassured him. “Can you send over the opposition research on Hermione Granger?” 

There were a few seconds of silence, then Nott laughed. “I can. To be honest, though, I think you might learn more from simply googling Ms. Granger. Her entire life is online. Millennial, and all that.” 

“Fine,” Tom said, hanging up. He wasn’t interested in explaining his sudden interest in the young congresswoman. 

He switched on his laptop, pulling up various social media sites. Facebook seemed the most useful, until he realized that Hermione hadn’t updated her account since 2009. He turned to Instagram then, where she was infinitely more active. 

She had four million followers, which seemed absurd. Tom represented dozens of times the number of people, and he only had seven million. 

Her page was colorful. There were photographs of her at protests, staring down police officers dressed in riot gear. In some, her eye was swollen shut, the result of a hit from a rubber bullet. 

Tom frowned. Hermione was a true progressive -- she had the arrest record to prove it. Her mug shots were proudly displayed on her Instagram, proof of her willingness to fight for the people.

He shut the laptop, cursing. She was going to be a problem. 

*

“And then,” Hermione said, laughing, “I poured coffee all over his stupid papers. You should’ve seen the look on his face!” 

“Hermione, you need to be careful,” Harry said. He tried to look stern, but ultimately failed, cracking a smile. “Look, I’m serious alright? It’s funny, but you don’t want to make Riddle your enemy. He holds a lot of sway in the Senate.” 

Hermione waved a hand, obviously not concerned. “What’s the difference? He already hated me. You saw his press conference.” She paused, stealing a couple of Harry’s fries. When she spoke again, her tone was more serious. “I’m not going to let him intimidate me.” 

“I know,” Harry said. “You wouldn’t be Hermione if you did.” 

TWO MONTHS LATER

“We need to meet tonight,” Ron whispered, despite the fact they were in a meeting. “It’s important.” 

Hermione looked at him, then back at her calendar. “I’m in committee until seven. After that, I’m free for an hour, then I have a donor meeting at nine.” 

He nodded, jotting it down. “Let’s meet at eight, then.”

“Ron,” Hermione said, taking in the full extent of his tension, “is everything alright? You’re scaring me.” 

He patted her shoulder, standing to leave. “Everything will be fine. We just need to find a solution.” With that, he was gone, leaving Hermione to worry for the rest of the day. If they needed to find a solution, she reasoned, then something had to be wrong. 

At eight, she ran to her office, anxious to hear the extent of the damage. When she opened the door, Ron and Harry were both there. Sirius too, looking grim. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Remus and Dumbledore entered behind her. 

“All right,” she said. “What did I do?” 

Dumbledore took a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. “You’re done nothing wrong, Ms. Granger. This meeting has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Speaker Fudge.” 

“Oh God,” she said. “That’s worse.” 

Remus reached across the table, clasping her hands in support. “Fudge told Dumbledore today that he won’t allow the Democratic Party to finance your reelection campaign.” 

“What?” Hermione whispered, stunned. “Why would he do that?” 

“You know why,” Dumbledore said. “Fudge is afraid of the movement you represent.” 

Hermione straightened, forcing herself to blink away tears. If she was going to win reelection, she needed money. A lot of money. Without the support of the Democratic Party, it would be nearly impossible to raise. “Is there any way to change his mind?” She asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. 

“You’re going to need to distance yourself from us, my dear,” Dumbledore said. “Mainstream Democrats view the Order of the Phoenix as a threat. If you can convince them that you’re not beholden to us, you’ll have a shot.” 

“How can I distance myself?” Hermione demanded. “I’ve worked with your organization for years. You’re involved in every aspect of my political career.” 

The room was silent. 

“We’ll find a way,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. “I promise.” 

She appreciated the sentiment, but Hermione remained unconvinced. 

*

“We don’t have the votes,” Bellatrix said. “I don’t care how many Republicans are elected next November. You won’t be chosen as majority leader.” 

Tom’s nails dug into his palm. “How is it possible that we don’t have the votes? We’re the largest Republican caucus in the Senate.” 

“But not the only Republican caucus in the Senate,” Bellatrix countered. “And the others don’t trust you.” 

Tom stood, pacing the length of his office. “Why?’ 

“Take your pick,” Bellatrix offered. “You’re not open about most of your political positions, despite being an elected official. You say you’re a moderate, but you vote with the Tea Party more often than not.” She closed her clipboard. “You’re single, too. I think that’s the nail in the coffin.” 

“That’s the nail in the coffin?” Tom demanded. “I find it hard to believe that my status as a bachelor is a dealbreaker. This is the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.”

Bellatrix passed him a file, not bothering to engage. “We’ve done the research, Tom. Without a partner to soften your imagine, people view you as harsh and uncompromising. 

Tom massaged his temples, cursing internally. Decades in public service, and he was being thwarted by outward observations. It was fitting, he supposed, that the one thing he couldn’t control was threatening his future. 

“It’s not the end of the world,” he eventually said. “We’ll find a girl, make her sign an NDA, and that will be that.” When Bellatrix seemed unmoved, he continued. “If I need to, I’ll find someone to marry. I’m not picky, as long as she stays out of my work.” 

Bellatrix shook her head, taking back the folder. “That won’t cut it. The American people might buy it, but your colleagues in the Senate will see right through you.”

“What do you propose I do, then?” Tom asked, temper rising to the surface. For the first time in the conversation, Bellatrix looked nervous. It was easy to forget how much danger you were in, being around Tom.

“I have an idea,” She said. “You’re not going to like it, though.” 

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Surprise me,” he said. It sounded more like a threat than an order. Bellatrix took it in stride, closing the door to the office. 

“I’m on it,” she assured him. 

THREE DAYS LATER

Hermione tapped her foot, anxious to get to the front of the line. She had a meeting with Sirius at three, and she didn’t want to be late, especially since he was being mysterious about the agenda. Mercifully, the cashier was quick. Hermione had enough time to grab a salad and run to Sirius’s office.

Ten minutes later, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, striding across the lobby of Sirius’ building. She stepped into the elevator, checking her watch as she did.

“Running late?” Someone asked, following her in. 

Hermione stiffened. “Senator Riddle. I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I’m a moderate,” he said, shrugging. “I’m happy to meet with liberal organizations, from time to time.” Hermione took in his expression, but there was no hint of a lie. His serene smile betrayed no emotion. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she replied. “Unless I’m mistaken, the Order of the Phoenix isn’t your cup of tea. Not enough old white men.” 

“You know,” Tom countered, reciting a memorized response, “during the last election, there was more than a 100 percent increase in the number of elected Republican women. Democrats improved by only 23 percent.” 

“100 percent of zero is still zero,” Hermione said, stepping out of the elevator. “Have a nice day, Tom.” With that, she walked away, yet again taking the last word. 

Sirius wasn’t in his office, but a strange woman was. “Hello,” Hermione said, taking a seat. 

Before the woman could respond, the door opened. Tom entered the room, starting when he saw Hermione. “Bellatrix,” he said slowly. “What’s going on?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Political Lingo Note: 
> 
> In this chapter, Fudge is referred to as the Speaker. Later, we talk about Tom's ambitions to be elected majority leader. This is important, as it's a motivation for Tom in this fic. The Speaker is the leader of the majority party in the House, the Senate Majority Leader is in charge of the majority party in the Senate. Both are very important roles, and are elected by fellow party members.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I'm so sorry this is late. I've been moving home from college, so everything has been absolutely mad. That said, back now! I should be able to double upload this week, to keep us on schedule. 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying, and thank you for all the lovely kudos and comments. They keep me going!!!

**_CHAPTER TWO_ **

TEN MINUTES LATER

“No,” Hermione said, not giving Sirius a chance to finish his proposal. “I appreciate the work that went into this, but I refuse to consider it.” She reached for her purse, preparing to leave. “Senator, Bellatrix. Good day.” 

She didn’t make it to the door. Bellatrix grabbed her, pulling her back to her seat. Hermione made an incredulous noise, shocked at the blatant manhandling. “Listen,” Bellatrix hissed, sounding more unhinged than usual. “You both need to convince the world that you're reasonable people, capable of compromise and human emotion.” She paused, looking pointedly at Tom. Hermione stifled a snort.

“Bellatrix is right,” Sirius added. “If you don’t find a way to convince Fudge you’re not in Dumbledore’s pocket, you’re going to be a one-term congresswoman, Hermione.” 

Tom let out a bitter laugh, reclining in his chair. “This agreement would certainly distance you from Dumbledore. Our mutual dislike for each other is hardly a secret.” 

“Wait a minute,” Hermione said, turning to look at Tom. “Are you actually considering this?” 

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m considering it. You need funding. I need a romantic partner. This would kill two birds with one stone.” Stunned into silence, Hermione gaped at Tom. He continued, unaffected. “I’m all for it.” 

“You _hate_ me,” Hermione burst out, unable to help herself.

Tom shrugged, somehow making the motion look elegant. “Maybe. I don’t see how that matters.” 

Feeling increasingly like she’d entered an alternate universe, Hermione blinked. Once. Twice.

Once she’d steadied herself, she repeated Tom’s words. “You don’t see why it matters?” 

Again, Tom nodded. “Yes.” 

“We’re considering faking a relationship, and our complete lack of compatibility doesn’t concern you?” Hermione asked, astonished. “People will see right through us.” 

Tom reached over, gently setting his hand on top of Hermione’s. He met her eyes, letting his gaze soften as he looked at her. “I don’t think they will.” In an instant, the mask slipped, and he was back to scowling. “Unless you can’t act.” 

Indignant, Hermione raised her voice. “I can act!” 

“Then what’s the problem?” Tom asked, exasperated. “I get what I want. You get what you want. Are you really going to throw away an opportunity for reelection because you don’t like me?” He began to gather his things. “I guess I was right. You are too immature for politics.” 

“Tom,” Sirius warned. 

Hermione held up a hand, cutting Sirius off. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.” 

Bellatrix broke out into a grin, clapping Hermione on the back. “That’s more like it!”

“We’ll have to iron out the details,” Sirius reminded them. “The election is in nine months. Primaries are sooner, but I don’t think either of you are worried about that. Hermione’s running unopposed, and Tom’s only opponent is polling at five percent.” 

“Three percent,” Tom and Hermione corrected simultaneously. Tom's gaze snapped to her. “What?” Hermione said, staring him down. “I read the news.” 

Sirius looked between them, then decided not to comment. “It seems wise to hold off for a month or two, then start in May. That will give Bellatrix and I time to build up a believable backstory.” He pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is preliminary, but it provides an idea of what we need to do in the interim.” 

“You should get to know each other behind closed doors,” Bellatrix added. “Meet once or twice. It will make everything more believable on the back end.” 

“Fine,” Hermione bit out. 

Sirius sighed. “I know you're not happy about this. But it’s the best way.” He ran a hand through his hair, his casual manners shining through. “Look. Go home. Read through the plan of action, but don’t tell a soul.” 

“Not a problem,” Tom said, stopping Hermione from objecting. “This can’t leave this room. If what we’re doing ever got out, it would end both our careers.” He assessed Hermione. “You’ll need to sign an NDA.” 

She rolled her eyes, barely resisting the urge to flip him off. “You too, then.” 

“Gladly,” Tom replied. 

“Good,” Hermione cut back. 

Bellatrix shoved binders into their hands. “Here's the plan. Memorize it. We’ll meet back here in a month, after you’ve had some one-on-one time.” With that, the meeting ended. Hermione wasted no time in storming out. 

*

Hermione opened the door to her apartment, relaxing slightly as she stepped through the threshold. Inside, the world was colorful. Most of the space had been given over to books, but brightly colored walls peeked out from behind the shelves. She doubted D.C. would ever feel like home, but she’d done her best to adjust. 

Dropping her keys in a bowl, Hermione kicked off her heels. After that, she walked straight to the kitchen and opened the first bottle of wine she happened upon. She debated grabbing a glass, then decided not to pretend that she wasn’t going to finish the bottle.

“Christ,” Hermione muttered, collapsing onto the couch. “What was I thinking?”

She’d gotten cocky, she realized. After having the last word in two verbal sparring matches, Hermione had started to underestimate Tom Riddle. And what a mistake that had been. He’d seized on her weaknesses, playing on her fear of being too inexperienced to handle hardball politics. 

She sighed, taking a swig of wine. It wasn’t the end of the world. Sirius and Bellatrix were right about the utility of the arrangement. She needed Fudge to believe that she was more than a progressive wildcard. Tom, asshole that he was, could provide her with proof of her ability to compromise. 

Given that she represented a traditionally Republican area, it would probably boost her approval ratings, too. As long as she didn’t compromise her progressive voting record in the process, Tom was right -- there weren’t many downsides. There were, however, a lot of ethical questions. 

Hermione was going to be lying to her constituents. More broadly, she was going to be pulling the wool over the eyes of the American people. It felt worth it, though. She truly believed in her ability to help people, but she needed to get reelected to do it. And to be reelected, she had to go through with the plan. 

She groaned, settling into an episode of the Great British Bake Off. 

*

“Do you think she bought it?” Bellatrix asked. 

Tom scoffed. “Of course she did. There’s no reason to suspect I planned the meeting. Not when you and Sirius are related. You contacted him with the initial proposal; everyone will assume it was a family affair. Besides, I seemed surprised.” 

Bellatrix nodded, opening a folder. She was quiet for a moment, then, unable to resist, she spoke again. “I don’t understand why it had to be her.” 

Tom’s eyes narrowed, the only outward sign of his frustration. “She’s dangerous, Bella. Can’t you see that?” 

Bellatrix stared at the paper in front of her. Hermione Granger smiled back, dressed in a black pantsuit. She wasn’t wearing makeup; her hair was wild. She looked like a young woman, not a political maverick. Still, it wasn’t wise to trifle with Tom. 

“I suppose I see it,” she finally said. 

Tom’s fist curled. “Don’t lie to me. You know better than.” Glancing down at Hermione’s portrait, he frowned. “You’re getting your way, Bellatrix. I’m dating a congresswoman. Why don’t you cut your losses while you still can?” 

ONE DAY LATER

“Are we on for game night?” Ron asked, whacking Hermione with a roll of papers to catch her attention. “Ginny’s in town. I think Fred and George are, too.” When she didn’t respond, Ron waved a hand in front of her. “Earth to Hermione?” 

She started, eyes refocusing. “Sorry, Ron. I’ve just been distracted all day.” 

“It’s fine,” he said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “So, are you coming or what?” 

Hermione frowned. “I can’t. I’ll have to take a raincheck.” She grabbed her coat. “I’ll walk you out, though, if you’re leaving now.” 

Ron nodded, grabbing his bag. They began the long walk through the halls, winding their way to the ground floor. “What do you have tonight, anyway?” He asked. “I don’t remember seeing anything on the office calendar.” 

Unsure how to answer, Hermione bit her lip. “Ron, I really can’t--” 

He waved a hand, sensing her hesitation. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

It was silent for a moment, as neither of them were sure of how to proceed. When he could stand it no longer, Ron spoke. “It’s okay if you’re going on a date, Hermione. We’ve been broken up for a long time. You can tell me.” 

When she didn’t respond, he plowed forward. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” Ron shifted his weight, nervous. “I’ve been seeing someone. It’s still pretty new, but I really like her.”

“That’s great,” Hermione forced out, voice strangled. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Yeah?” Ron said, pleased. “I’m glad. I’ve been waiting to tell you, because I don’t want to make things awkward between us. This girl, though.” He let out a low whistle. “I think she might be the one, Hermione.” 

Thoroughly miserable, Hermione tried her best to grin. “I hope she is.” 

Encouraged, Ron spent the rest of the walk filling Hermione in on the details. With each passing second, her misery exponentiated. When they finally passed the bathrooms, she seized her chance to escape, telling Ron to go ahead. 

Hermione burst into the restroom, grateful to find it empty. She walked to the mirror, splashing cold water on her face. “New girlfriend,” she muttered. “Brilliant. As if I didn’t have enough going on tonight.” She glanced down at her watch, cursing when she realized it was already seven. “Siri,” she called, running out of the bathroom. “Ring Sirius.” 

He didn’t pick up. 

Hermione dashed into the street, hailing the first cab she saw. “Jefferson Street, please,” she told the driver, out of breath. “I’ll pay you extra if you get me there by seven fifteen.” 

The driver laughed. “You want me to get you to Georgetown in fifteen minutes? During rush hour?” 

“Twenty bucks,” Hermione said. 

In the end, they were five minutes late. Hermione stepped out of the cab, flustered. Once on the street, she stared at the townhouse in front of her, trying to reconcile the Tom Riddle she knew with the charming brownstone.

Before she could knock, the door swung open. Tom stood in the entryway, looking more like Jay Gatsby than a senator. He’d changed out of his usual suit; he leaned against the doorframe in casual slacks and a collared shirt. The tumbler of whiskey he was holding completed the picture of subtle wealth. 

“Well?” He said. “Are you going to come in?” 

Hermione forced herself to take a step forward. “I was expecting something more modern.” Tom didn’t respond. She cringed, trying to save face. “Not that this isn’t lovely.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tom admonished, closing the door. 

Inside, the apartment was closer to Hermione’s expectations. It was masculine, but not overly so. The kitchen bled into the living room. Both were dark, with grey walls and metal accents. Various pieces of tan furniture brightened the space.

Still, it felt sterile to Hermione. There were no personal effects, no photographs. Even the bookshelves were devoid of character, filled with volumes that seemed to have more more aesthetic than sentimental value. 

“Have you had dinner?” Tom asked. Hermione shook her head. “Perfect. I bought Chinese.” 

They took seats at the kitchen island. She was glad to avoid the formality of the dinner table. 

After a couple of seconds spent in complete silence, staring at their food, Tom looked over to Hermione. “Can we start over?” He asked.

“That depends,” Hermione said. “Do you still think I’m immature, irresponsible, and undeserving of my seat in congress?”

“I don’t know,” Tom replied. “I suppose that depends on whether you plan to pour more coffee on my classified papers.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We both know that I did that because you forced me to live through an entire news cycle of sexist bullshit about my lack of experience.”

Angry, Tom slammed his fist on the table. “Here’s a piece of advice, Hermione. If you want people to take you seriously, you shouldn’t insult sitting senators. Especially when you’re a freshman congresswoman.” 

“Oh, so it would be fine if I were a congress _man_?” Hermione countered. 

Tom scoffed. “You’re reaching. We both know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Either way, we've established that you don’t respect me,” Hermione said. “So, no. We can’t start over.” 

“Fine,” Tom said.

“Fine,” she agreed. 

*

“Well?” Dumbledore asked, back at the Order’s Headquarters. “How did the meeting go?” 

Remus and Sirius looked on, eager to hear her response. In that moment, with everyone counting on her success, Hermione felt ashamed of her earlier fight with Tom. She grit her teeth.“It was fine. I think we’ll be able to hold it together for the project.” 

Sirius grinned. “Fight much?” 

“A little,” Hermione begrudgingly admitted. 

His smile fell a bit. “I know Tom’s a bastard, Hermione. But Bellatrix offered, and it seemed like the perfect solution to our problems.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’m grateful, really. It will be an unpleasant nine months, but it will be worth it to win reelection.” 

“As long as you’re sure,” Remus said. “It’s going to take a toll, Hermione. You’ll have to be around him constantly. You’re also going to have to lie to Ron and Harry. They can’t know.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “It’s true, my dear. They’re not ready to keep a secret like this.” 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione steadied herself. “I know. I know, and I’ve got this.” 

*

Across town, Tom poured himself another drink. “That bad?” Nott asked. 

“Worse,” Tom said, tone dark. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! as i'm sure you've noticed, this fic is getting longer! i had planned for it to be short and sweet, but it's getting away from me!
> 
> thank you, as always, for all of the kind words, kudos, etc. it really warms my heart when i log on and see notifications :)
> 
> for anyone lost in time -- we're currently in about late april/early may, and the election is in november.

**_CHAPTER THREE_ **

As badly as Tom and Hermione’s first dinner had gone, the rest were worse. Their failed attempts at civility led to a kitchen fire, two burnt meals, and three slammed doors. Eventually they gave up, deciding it was better to lie to their advisors than to be in each other’s presence. 

More than a month had passed, though, and like it or not, it was time to put the plan into action. 

Hermione, cursing her luck, found herself in the same elevator as Tom on the way up to Sirius’ office. They rode in silence; the only sound coming from Hermione’s shoe, tapping against the cold metal floor. 

Tom pinched his brow. “Would you stop that?” 

“Stop what?” Hermione asked, unaware of her nervous movement. 

“Tapping,” Tom hissed. “It’s driving me insane.” 

Hermione regarded him, debating whether it was worth it to get into a verbal sparring match. Tom stared back, not giving her an inch of leverage. After a second, she took a deep breath, suppressing the worst of her anger. 

“In a few moments, the elevator doors are going to open. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not admit how miserably we failed at getting to know each other.” 

Tom’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Our problems are our problems,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, Bellatrix and Sirius never need to know.” 

He stuck out a hand.

Hermione shook it. “Deal.” 

As they let go, the doors rolled open. Tom’s posture loosened, and he plastered a look of pleasant blankness over his glower. Hermione tried to do the same, releasing some of the tension from her shoulders. 

They were just in time. Sirius rounded the corner, looking as disheveled as ever. His black hair hung in a shaggy mop and his suit jacket was missing. “Hermione!” He exclaimed. “Good to see you, kid.”

“You too,” Hermione said, wishing she meant it. It was hard to muster any sort of enthusiasm for seeing Sirius, now that he was associated with the plan. “It’s been awhile.” 

He nodded. “Little over a month. Riddle give you much trouble?” 

Tom’s jaw tightened. “Careful, Black.” 

Sirius shrugged off the threat, opening the door to his office. “Bellatrix is already here. She waltzed in an hour early, acting like she owned the place.” He sighed, taking in his cousin’s posture. “Shoes off the desk, please.” 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, but obliged. “You said to come around three, Sirius. Two is around three.” 

“She’s right,” Tom said, earning him a glare from Sirius. 

Sensing rising tension, Hermione took a seat. “Let’s get started,” she said. “I’ve got a committee meeting in two hours, and I have a feeling this is going to take awhile.” 

Across the room, Tom leaned in, feigning interest. “You mentioned that the Agriculture Committee is thinking about instituting a new corn subsidy. Could be important for the Central Valley.” He knit his brows. “Is that today?” 

“It is,” Hermione said, struggling to understand Tom’s sudden interest in her work. He raised an eyebrow, egging her on. All at once, the pieces fell together. He was pretending -- making sure Sirius and Bellatrix believed that they’d had civil conversations. She swallowed. “We’re hoping to write the bill sometime this week.” 

“I’ll look forward to seeing it on my desk,” Tom said, a smile playing at his lips. 

From their seats, Bellatrix and Sirius stared, surprised by Tom and Hermione’s relative civility. Neither Black commented, not wanting to disturb what they perceived as a delicate peace between their clients. 

“Right,” Bellatrix said. “Let’s talk timeline.” 

Sirius pulled up a powerpoint. “We’re planning a meet-cute in the congressional cafeteria. There’ll be plenty of witnesses.” He switched slides. “After that, we’ll give it a week or two, then send you to lunch.” 

“Nothing dramatic,” Bellatrix drawled, looking bored. She stood, pacing the length of the room. After a second, she spun around, eyes wild. “If you start a screaming match, I’ll kill you both myself.” 

“You can try,” Tom said, voice full of gentle warning.

Hermione leaned forward, desperate to keep the meeting on the rails. “What next?”

“Social media,” Sirius supplied. “We want to control the narrative, right from the beginning. We’ll organize a couple of fun Twitter interactions, make sure newspapers report when you start following each other.” 

Tom nodded. “That, at least, I agree with. We want to have public opinion on our side.” 

“You want people to ship us?” Hermione asked, looking for confirmation. 

“Sure,” Sirius said. “If that’s what the kids call it.” He sighed. “We should probably find a social media intern. One that we can swear to secrecy.” 

Hermione stifled a laugh.

*

Tom stood in the back of the room, waiting for Nott to notice him. It took a few minutes, but eventually the man’s dark eyes flashed to his. “My apologies,” Nott said, stepping away from a crowd of reporters. “That’s all the time I have.” 

He met Tom outside, carrying a heavy stack of files. As always, Tom decided it was better not to ask what they were. Nott was Tom’s best operative, but he dabbled in a few illegal arenas.

“Finally getting started?” Nott asked. 

Tom frowned. “Still lying to Bellatrix, too. I have no interest in her critiques.” 

His friend waved a hand, unimpressed. “It doesn’t matter if you get along. It matters what people think.” After a moment of silence, Nott spoke again. “I’m not concerned. If you can fool Bellatrix, you can fool anyone.”    


“I guess we’ll see tomorrow,” Tom said. 

Nott made a noise of assent. “I’ll have to find a reason to be in the cafeteria.” 

*

Hermione sat in her committee meeting, distracted. From her seat, she had a clear view of the clock. As the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t help but feel she was inching closer to her impending doom. 

The second the meeting ended, she was out the door, calling Remus. He picked up quickly, chuckling. “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.” 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m not bothering you?” 

“No,” he said. “Not at all. I’m not surprised to hear you’re having cold feet.” 

Reassured, Hermione took a deep breath. “I had my final meeting with Sirius and Bellatrix today. Or, rather, the last before we start putting things into motion.” 

“Let me guess,” Remus replied. “Sirius wasn’t overly reassuring.” 

“No!” Hermione burst out. “He’s wonderful, but he’s so cavalier.” Realizing how loud she’d been, she turned to make sure she was alone. When she spoke again, she was quieter. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” 

Remus let out a sigh. “I do, Hermione. I wish you didn’t have to go through this, but I truly believe it’s the most effective way to convince Fudge that you’ve distanced yourself from Dumbledore.” 

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but Hermione forced herself not to play Devil’s advocate. “Alright,” she said. “I believe you Remus. It’s just hard not to worry. I’m a progressive, for God’s sake! Won’t my supporters be horrified when I start dating a Republican?” 

“Maybe a few,” Remus admitted. “But, Hermione, everyone loves a love story. Especially ones that are against the odds.” 

She frowned, knowing he was right.

TWO DAYS LATER

Hermione stood in front of her closet, lost. It was the big day, and even minor details were starting to stress her out. She never worried about her attire. Today, though, with so much on the line, it felt important. 

After a great deal of deliberation, Hermione selected a red blouse. It matched nicely with her favorite slacks and earrings. Once dressed, she hurried out of the house before she did anything truly stupid, like put on dramatic eyeliner. 

She spent the morning in a state of constant stress. Tom took an early lunch, though, so she didn’t have to wait long. After a quick meeting with her staff, Hermione was off, taking a shortcut to make sure that she made it to the cafeteria by noon.

Once there, it wasn't hard to find Tom. He was surrounded by members of his caucus, forming a small island in the middle of the room. He spotted her quickly, too. She could tell, as he excused himself from the circle. Taking the hint, Hermione started walking towards the salad bar. As planned, Tom maintained a collision course, until… Impact! 

Surprised by Tom’s strength, Hermione found herself truly knocked off her feet. Before she could reach the ground, Tom caught her arm, pulling her back to a standing position. She steadied herself, trying to avoid laughing.

It was ironic, after all, that their first public meeting was a recreation of their disastrous private one. 

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, drawing Hermione out of her reverie. 

Sensing that they had an audience, she made a show of straightening her sleeves. “I think so. Thank you for catching me.” 

“Of course,” Tom replied. He offered her a hand. “I’m Tom Riddle. Senator from New York.” 

Hermione smiled back, trying to provide a convincing performance. “Hermione. Congresswoman from California.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tom said, sounding different. Kinder, somehow. “You know, I was angry about losing your seat, but the video of you reacting to the results made it worth it.” 

She shrugged. “Happy to oblige.” 

They stared at each other. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like they were two strangers, processing their unlikely chemistry. In reality, they were trying to decide if they’d said enough to kick-start the rumor mill. 

Hermione made the call. “Well,” she said, stepping away. “It was good to run into you.” 

Tom patted her shoulder. Hermione stiffened, hoping the audience couldn’t tell. She hadn’t expected the touch. Tom must’ve noticed, but he pushed through. “I hope to see you around, Hermione.” 

With that, he left. It was over. 

Around the cafeteria, interns, congressmen, and senators returned to their meals. Hermione let out a breath. As she walked away, her phone pinged. She looked down, surprised to see an unknown number flash across her screen. 

_ Good enough. We’ll start social media tonight. -TR. _

Unsure how he’d gotten her number, Hermione typed a quick reply. 

**you don’t make the call. sirius and bellatrix say to give it a few days.**

Hermione didn’t bother to sign it, or to put her phone away. She had a feeling Tom wouldn’t be able to resist a quick reply. A minute later, she was proved right. 

_ Don’t ruin a good thing. We were getting along so well _ . 

**for an act, tom.**

_ Fine. I’ll ‘accidentally’ like an old instagram photo of yours. I don’t need your help for that.  _

**you know damn well that if you do that, it’ll make the news.**

_ That’s the point. _

**whatever, control freak.**

_ Do you have something against capital letters? _

Deciding not to dignify that with a response, Hermione threw her phone in her purse, groaning.

*

Harry’s apartment was a mess, but it was a gathering point. For whatever reason, Hermione and her friends spent most nights curled up on his old couch, using cardboard boxes as a coffee table. It wasn’t much, but it was home. 

She didn’t bother to change before heading over. She’d stayed late at the office, trying to get in a few calls to donors. “Knock, knock,” she called, letting herself in. 

“Living room!” Harry yelled. “We have pizza.” 

She smiled, walking through the kitchen. When the living room came into view, Hermione was pleased to see Ginny, Fred, and George there. “Where’s Ron?” She asked, taking a seat on the carpet and grabbing a slice of pizza. 

Fred wagged his eyebrows. “Ickle ronniekins has a girlfriend.” 

“Something about Harry’s style doesn’t appeal to her,” George finished. 

Hermione forced herself to laugh, suppressing the uncomfortable way her stomach twisted when hearing about Ron and his new girlfriend. To avoid responding, she took a bite of pizza.

Ginny must’ve sensed Hermione’s discomfort, because she changed the subject. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, Hermione! What’s been keeping you busy on the Hill?” 

Hermione shrugged. “It’s always something. I’m either writing bills, calling donors, or sleeping. And I’m almost never sleeping.” 

That earned a laugh from the group, which quieted quickly when Harry pulled out a monopoly board.

“No,” Ginny said. “The last time we played, it nearly ended our relationship.” 

“Only because you cheated,” Harry countered, ducking as Ginny tried to whack him. When he sat up, his glasses were slightly askew. “Come on,” he entreated. “It will be fun.” 

Ginny acquiesced, although she threatened to leave if Harry accused her of cheating. While they were arguing, Fred and George each pocketed a few pieces of monopoly money. Hermione stifled a laugh, but kept her mouth shut. 

For the most part, the game passed peacefully. On two occasions, the board was upended, but everyone remembered their locations. All was going well, until Hermione’s phone lit up. 

“What’s that?” Ginny asked, pointing at the phone. “Don’t you only get Instagram notifications when verified users like your photos?” 

Hermione nodded, a pit forming in her stomach. “That’s true. But it could be anyone. There’s a lot of verified activists.” She might’ve gotten away with that explanation, were it not for the fact that her phone buzzed again. 

Ginny grabbed it, unabashed only in the way someone with six siblings can be. She squealed, and Hermione’s worst fears were confirmed. “Ginny,” she demanded. “Give it back.” 

“Hermione,” Ginny exalted, eyes shining. “Tom  _ Riddle _ just slid into your dms.” 


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you're all doing well. I know the holidays can be a difficult time, so I'm sending love your way! Thank you to my lovely readers: you keep me going!
> 
> You'll notice I clarify Tom's political beliefs in this chapter -- he is a Republican, but focused on the economy. I don't feel morally good about having a protagonist with anti-gay marriage, etc. beliefs, so I wanted to make that clear xoxo. Your boy is a moderate in a less screwed up version of American politics. Escapism, y'all. 
> 
> Anyways, much love to all xoxoxoxo.

_**CHAPTER FOUR** _

“He didn’t slide into my DMs,” Hermione hissed, grabbing her phone back from Ginny. 

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “I saw the notification.” 

“We met in the Cafeteria,” Hermione countered. “I’m sure he’s just being polite.” Ginny didn’t seem convinced, but she dropped the issue, sensing Hermione’s rising temper. 

Internally, Hermione’s blood was boiling. There was a plan! An official timeline, carefully approved by Bellatrix and Sirius. Tom had no right to embarrass her in front of her friends, long before they were supposed to be publicly flirting. 

She reached for her phone, making sure Ginny’s prying eyes couldn’t see the screen. Shaking with repressed anger, Hermione pulled up her earlier conversation with Tom. 

**fuck. off.**

Not one to censor herself, she sent the message without hesitation. Satisfied, she muted Tom’s number. A smug smile crossed her lips. Let him be ignored. She knew it would drive him insane. 

Slightly calmer, Hermione tossed her phone to the side and returned her focus to the game. As much as she wanted to, though, she couldn’t concentrate. Looking around, she was forced to consider the lies she was going to have to tell her friends.

“Earth to Hermione,” Fred joked, poking her in the arm. “It’s your turn.” 

She grinned, rolling the dice. “Sorry. Just got distracted.” 

*

Tom’s phone pinged. He smirked, knowing Hermione had taken the bait. When he checked, though, there wasn’t a response to his message. Instead, there was a single text waiting for him. 

**fuck. off.**

It was a victory, he decided. True, she hadn’t responded to his Instagram message, but she hadn’t been able to censor herself. Tom Riddle believed in knowing your enemy’s weaknesses, and Hermione Granger was proving to be overly emotional. 

He sent back a response, matching her level of hostility. Three hours later, when she still hadn’t responded, he felt a slight twinge of irritation. 

THREE DAYS LATER

Hermione brushed past Sirius in the hallway. He was on the way to a meeting, but stopped long enough to hand her a sheet of paper. “Press starts today,” he said, leaving no room for argument. Hermione resisted the urge to frown. Sirius rarely acted like a professional, but when he did, it was difficult to ignore. 

Checking her calendar, Hermione groaned. There was a lunch for freshman congressmen in half an hour. It didn’t make sense to walk back to her office before heading to the restaurant, so she resolved to get there early, force herself to deal with Tom, then try to enjoy a nice sandwich. 

When she arrived, Hermione was surprised to see that she wasn’t the first one there. Across the room, a shining head of platinum blonde hair caught the light. She groaned. Leave it to Draco Malfoy to ruin her day. 

He smirked when he saw her, placing himself in her path. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he drawled. “I didn’t think you’d meet the dress code.” 

Hermione grit her teeth. “Well, obviously I did.” After a second, unable to resist, she spoke again. “I’m surprised to see you too, as it happens. I thought you’d be at the kids table.” 

“And why’s that, Granger?” Draco spit out. 

She smiled. “You’re reliant on Daddy’s money, aren’t you?” 

Left to their own devices, they would’ve kept going at it. Fortunately, another congressman walked in and eagerly took Draco off Hermione’s hands. She walked away, making sure to sit as far from Draco as possible. 

“Is Draco bothering you?” Luna Lovegood asked, taking the seat next to Hermione. 

Hermione shrugged, reassured by Luna’s presence. “He’s always bothering me.” 

It was true. Ever since they’d crossed paths in college, Draco Malfoy had been a thorn in Hermione’s side. To this day, she didn’t understand why she’d been subjected to his presence -- the Malfoys went to Yale, not to Stanford. Nonetheless, they’d spent four years fighting over student government positions, politics, and everything in between.

Struck by a sudden need to prove her worth, Hermione turned to Luna. “I meant to spend a few minutes engaging on social media. Will it bother you if I’m on my phone?” 

The blonde waved a hand. “I wanted to meditate anyway.” 

Relieved, Hermione opened Instagram. She’d been forced to follow Tom back after the disastrous events at Harry’s. To her surprise, the press hadn’t realized. Controlling the media narrative was essential to the success of their project, so they planned to increase interaction, in the hopes of receiving positive coverage. 

Hermione scrolled through her saved posts. After much debate, she and Sirius had decided that the easiest way to be noticed would be by tagging each other in various posts. It was ideal for two reasons: first, there were plenty of accounts dedicated to tracking public figure’s comments. Second, it would seem less deliberately public. 

Sirius had left the rest up to her, claiming it had to seem authentic. Knowing it would irritate Tom, Hermione had saved a video of someone walking directly into a wall. **this you?** She typed, pleased with the reference to their initial collision. 

Hermione stared at the words for a second, biting her lip. After this, there was no going back. With a deep breath, she pressed send, leaving her phone on the table. Seventeen minutes later, the screen flashed white. _As I recall_ , Tom had replied, _you ran into me._

She liked the comment, too anxious to piece together a proper response. As she did, her phone chimed. It was from Tom. 

_You continue to prove my point about immaturity._

_Try and take this more seriously._

Hermione rolled her eyes, switching back to Instagram. She replied to Tom’s comment after all, making liberal use of emojis. He wanted immature? She could be immature. 

*

_Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle Just Followed Each Other, and We’re Shook_

One eagle-eyed social media user, who posted a funny video of her boyfriend walking into a wall, recently noticed something strange in her comment section. 

“Is it just me,” Alice Johnson tweeted Tuesday, “or are politicians flirting in my comments?” For emphasis, she included a screenshot of a conversation between Congresswoman Hermione Granger and Senator Tom Riddle. 

The exchange centered around some sort of private joke. “This you?” Congresswoman Granger asked the senator, referencing the distracted man. 

Riddle seemed amused. 

It’s rare to see politicians being so lighthearted on social media. We’re willing to bet that they thought no one would notice their interaction, given that it took place in a comment section. Thanks to Alice, though, we caught wind! 

For the sake of your curiosity, we reached out to some anonymous sources. 

According to a third party, Riddle and Granger began following each other a few days ago, after meeting in the Congressional Cafeteria. “They literally ran into each other,” the source explained. “They were both rushing, and they ended up on a collision course.” 

When pressed, our source admitted there was some initial chemistry. “They stayed to chat for a couple of minutes. For busy politicians, that’s an eternity.” Apparently, Riddle followed Granger later that night. She encouraged the interaction, following him back a few minutes later. For Granger especially, it’s a rare move. Prior to Riddle, she only followed five Republicans politicians, all from her local area. 

*

Ginny was waiting when Hermione arrived in her apartment. She had a key, which was meant to be used for emergency purposes. As of late, Ginny seemed intent on abusing her entry privileges. 

Hermione sighed when she saw her friend, dropping her purse on the counter. “Must we?” 

“Oh,” Ginny said. “We definitely must.” She followed Hermione into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. “Do you want to explain why you and Tom Riddle -- Tom Riddle! Are flirting on Instagram?” 

“Not particularly,” Hermione said, reaching for the television remote. Ginny grabbed it, unwilling to let her escape the conversation. Hermione sighed. “Fine. We met a couple days ago, and we’ve been chatting. The video seemed funny, given we ran into each other. That’s all it is, alright?” 

Ginny grinned. “I _knew_ it. You’ve got a thing for bad boys, don’t you?”

Hermione scoffed. “Tom Riddle is hardly a bad boy. He’s a senator, for God’s sake.” She stood, pacing. “We’re just talking, Ginny.” 

Seeing the excitement in her friend’s eyes broke a piece of Hermione’s heart. She’d been alone for a long time, and it would be better for everyone if she could move on from her break-up with Ron. Lying to Ginny, especially about something so precious, felt like a betrayal. 

Hermione grit her teeth. “Can we leave it? I feel awkward talking about it.” 

“Fine.” Ginny handed back the remote. “For what it’s worth though, I think he’s a pretty good choice, if you were doing more than talking.” 

That was surprising. Riddle was a Republican, and a fairly notorious one at that. He was opposed to most of the programs that Ginny fought for, citing budget concerns or other fiscal counterarguments. 

“Do you really think so?” Hermione asked. 

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t love his politics. But he’s not as bad as Grindelwald, or some of the other nuts in the Senate. He’s not opposed to gay marriage, or removing Confederate statues.” She shrugged. “I don’t think having different political opinions is the end of the world, as long as the other person respects basic human rights.” 

That, at least, was reassuring. Hermione didn’t want to lose her friends in the process of winning reelection. She would, if she had to, because her constituents mattered more than her personal happiness. Still, she’d rather avoid it. 

TWO WEEKS LATER

Two weeks after their initial social media interaction, when enough time had passed for them to have theoretically gotten to know each other, Tom and Hermione agreed to get lunch in the Cafeteria. Sirius and Bellatrix had wanted them to eat somewhere fancier, but they’d argued against it. 

Neither bothered with restaurants during the day, unless they had an official meeting. It wouldn’t have been believable to go out, given that they were both notorious workaholics. 

That’s how Hermione found herself face to face with Tom Riddle, trying to ignore the prying eyes of their coworkers and subordinates. 

“You don’t feel awkward?” She ground out, irritated by his relaxed smile. 

He shook his head, careful not to look upset. “Why? Is it illegal to get lunch?” 

Hermione sighed. “Nevermind. Forget that I tried to make conversation.” She looked around, unable to resist assessing the situation. As she did, heads snapped back to their meals.

“How was your week, then?” Hermione asked, desperate to make conversation. 

Tom raised an eyebrow, looking completely at ease in a formal suit. Dark hair swept across his forehead. “You know how it is. Donors, meetings. Meetings, donors.” 

A silence fell across the table. Hermione forced herself to keep smiling, hoping the moment looked peaceful and not staged. “How are we going to do this?” She asked, keeping her voice low. 

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Tom said, vaguely amused. 

Hermione’s gaze was murderous, even as she kept a pleasant expression on her face. “Obviously not.” When Tom didn’t respond, her rage exponentiated. It wasn’t her fault, after all. “To be fair, you don’t like me either.” 

He shrugged. “You didn't want to start over. I was willing to try and get along.” 

Glancing down at her meal, Hermione took a deep breath. She wanted to hate Tom Riddle. She really did. As time went on, though, it was becoming obvious that hatred wasn’t an option. Not if they wanted to convince people that they were in love. 

And, really, what was her hatred based on? A few rude comments. He’d been wrong to call her inexperienced, but was holding that grudge worth exposing them both as frauds? Deep down, she knew the answer.

Meeting Tom’s eyes, Hermione steeled herself for rejection. “Is the offer still on the table?” 

“I suppose it could be,” he said. “If you’re willing to apologize for pouring coffee on my things, that is.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But I want you to apologize for calling me stupid.” 

“Inexperienced,” he reminded her. 

“Same thing,” Hermione countered, unwilling to give an inch. 

After a moment of intense staring, Tom’s posture relaxed. Hermione knew she’d won. “Fine,” he said. “I’m sorry for my remarks.” 

She grinned. “I’m sorry for ruining your things.” 

From their tones, it was clear that Tom and Hermione weren’t actually sorry. For the first time in weeks, though, resolution felt possible. Hermione let out a breath, feeling relaxed. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” 

Tom’s smile didn’t meet his eyes, but it was something. “It’s a relief.” 

An awkward silence fell over the table. In response, Tom let out a curt laugh. “If we’re not going to argue, I haven’t the faintest idea what to discuss. It’s not like we have many common interests, or friends.” 

Hermione bit her lip, searching for a topic of conversation. “You know Draco Malfoy, right?” 

Surprised, Tom nodded. “I do. His father and I are old friends. Grandfather, too.” 

Deciding to take a leap of faith, Hermione met Tom’s gaze. “What do you think of him?” 

“He’s a spoiled little prick,” Tom said, sounding bored. He flicked a piece of lint off the table. “Why? Are you a fan?”

The question was almost certainly sarcastic, but Hermione felt the need to deny the accusation. “No,” she said. “Not a fan. In fact, I had lunch with him recently and I’ve been waiting for the chance to rant about his stupid, rich little face.” 

For the first time in Hermione’s memory, Tom broke into a genuine laugh. “By all means,” he said. “Go ahead.” 

The next day, that was the photo that leaked. Hermione looking at Tom, smiling slightly, a mischievous glint in her eye. Across from her, Tom laughed, giving her his full attention. 

If she hadn't known better, Hermione would’ve believed the article. Would’ve believed that they cared for each other. 

*

Tom took off his watch, setting it down gently. Across the room, his reflection stared back at him. He stepped closer to the mirror, frowning at the dark circles under his eyes. “Tonight,” he said, sounding confident. “Now that things are under control.” 

It had been a long time since he’d slept well, stressed by the prospect of his experiment with Hermione failing. Today, though, had felt like progress. They’d managed to have a civil conversation, after breaking the ice. 

Draco Malfoy. He had to laugh. It wasn’t surprising, he supposed, to hear that Draco and Hermione didn’t get along. The real question was how she’d guessed that _he_ didn’t like Draco. Maybe it was more obvious than he thought. Or, maybe Hermione was more perceptive than he thought. Both avenues required exploration. 

That said, it had been almost peaceful, to let out his casual disdain. And, of course, Hermione couldn’t tell anyone. The fake relationship could destroy both their careers, so there was no point in going after each other. Mutually assured destruction, and all that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Cast List: 
> 
> Tom Riddle: Republican Senator from New York  
> Lucius Malfoy: Republican Senator from Virginia  
> Abraxas Malfoy: Retired Republican Senator from Virginia  
> Crabbe Sr.: Aide to Tom Riddle  
> Bellatrix: Tom Riddle’s Chief of Staff  
> Draco Malfoy: Newly Elected Congressman from Virginia  
> Lestrange: Republican Senator from South Carolina  
> Nott Sr.: Republican Political Strategist  
> Avery: Republican Senator from North Carolina  
> Fudge: Speaker of the House
> 
> Hermione Granger: Newly Elected Congresswoman From California  
> Ron Weasley: Hermione Granger’s Chief of Staff  
> Harry Potter: Democratic Political Strategist  
> Ginny Weasley: Athlete, Women’s Rights Activist


End file.
